How Many Times?
by StephiJ
Summary: Stress has consumed Draco Malfoy in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. With his being Head Boy and the nagging Hermione Granger as Head Girl, what could possibly pull him out of this depressing slump? Would you believe it's a book? Read&Review!
1. Muggle Bookstore

How Many Times.?  
  
Chapter One~ Muggle Bookstore  
  
This is a big day in my life everyone! The first time I have ever stepped into a Muggle store by myself, actually at all, but I'm by myself now. I chose a bookstore because I'm taking a class at Hogwarts where I have to study filthy, pathetic Muggles upon the wishes of my father. He says it will help me when I need to help Voldemort with matters involving the scum. At least the place isn't dark.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco crept his way down the streets of London relatively immediately outside the Leaky Cauldron. He finally spotted something intriguing. "Barney's Bound Books," he read aloud to himself. He shrugged. "How bad can it be?"  
  
He shuffled into the tiny store in between two enormous corporation buildings. It was even tinier then it looked from the outside and was somehow still immensely crammed with more books than Flourish and Blotts. All the shelves were painted a dark green, which pleased Draco very much to see. He was going to miss that color after this, his seventh and final, year at Hogwarts. The buzz of the incandescent lights above him was a little nerve racking, but they illuminated the shelves and titles much better than even enchantedly bright candles.  
  
Draco started to browse through the isles. These titles all sounded so funky! What is 'The River of Lust'? Why the hell would anyone need to know about 'His Majesty'? Draco slid one of the books out of the shelf to glance at the cover. He immediately put it back. What kind of books are these?  
  
He found only one set of books with a sane title in the whole of four shelves. He pulled out the first addition of 'Aspire to Nothing' by Cilia FitzMartin. It was a relatively new book seeing as it was still in hardback and thus left no room for an 'odd' cover.  
  
It looked harmless enough, and if he had correctly counted what little Muggle money he had, he could just scrape by with buying it. He didn't really care what the book was about; he just wanted to know how a Muggle would think or what they could say about their boring lives. He chose the one with the sane title so as it wouldn't draw too much attention, and if the book was bad, his case would rest that Muggles were useless.  
  
Draco sauntered up to the green counter with a strange sorting machine on top. Earlier, one of the customers had purchased a book there, so Draco followed the woman's example. No one was there. Draco waited for about a minute until he grew impatient.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
An older, sort of plump woman with a small stack of five or so thick books in her arms answered by emerging from a back room Draco hadn't noticed before. She eyed the boy at the counter with a rather nasty look, and Draco in turn almost reached for his wand to curse her. He stopped himself and quickly brushed it aside.  
  
"Sir, one moment," the woman responded and turned back to the door. "Cart- hall!" The woman's screech almost blew one of Draco's eardrums. He heard a small crash from the room, and a moment later a much smaller woman stumbled out with a load of maybe thirty books in her hands.  
  
This woman was much younger and much thinner than the other. Her hair, which would have been long and brown with blond ends, was pulled back with a large hair-clip, but some had already fallen in front of her face messily. She wore glasses with thick black, teardrop frames, a plain, forest green t-shirt, and black pants. She looked immensely frazzled and was obviously the cause of the crash in the back room.  
  
The woman hastily plunked the stack of books down by the door and turned to the large woman, brandishing a flustered pair of pink cheeks. "It's pronounced Car-tall, Ms. Barney," she said in a forcedly calm voice. Ms. Barney turned to the back room and left the younger woman to tend to checking Draco's book.  
  
The woman Carthall walked head down to the counter and slid 'Aspire to Nothing' across the green wood. Draco saw her smile as she examined the binding.  
  
"Did you find everything alright, sir?" Draco could tell from her tone she was still smiling.  
  
"Yes," he replied shortly. He handed the coins to the girl and checked the walls for a clock. "Do you know what time it is, miss?"  
  
Carthall tapped a few of the buttons on the cash register and the bottom compartment ejected. Without looking, she sorted the coins with her thumb while wiggling her watch around her other wrist to read the time. Her smile got bigger.  
  
"It's 4:22, sir. And time for me to get off." She quickly looked down at the coins and placed them in the change pockets, but after that she reached to her back pocket, extracted another small piece of change, and dropped it into the same nook.  
  
Draco gave her a puzzled look. She looked at him with a faint lasting smile.  
  
"You were a little short, but don't worry. I covered," she said.  
  
"Oh." Draco had only the faintest idea what she meant because he knew he was suppose to meet his father back at the Leaky Cauldron at 4:30 for school shopping.  
  
"Did you need a bag, sir?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Your receipt?"  
  
"No need."  
  
The girl tore the small white paper into six halves and wished Draco a lovely afternoon. Draco was moving so quickly, he didn't even glance up at the girl while shifting through the green, book-filled shelves and the green door.  
  
The air of London instantly filled his nostrils. The wind curled around him and suddenly he was reminded of a relaxing walk through the grounds of Hogwarts. This was astonishing because Draco had never expected anything to remind him of the wizarding world here.  
  
The employee from the bookstore ran out a few seconds after Draco, swinging her bag over her shoulder, ripping the clip from her hair. She said hello to a man a little older than her in age on the street in front of the store. He laughed as she twirled around in the wind. The breeze seemed to just rap her gently in mid-air, lifting her hair gracefully from her shoulders. She hugged the man; he kissed her cheek and proceeded to run his fingers through her windblown locks.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
They must be a couple. I never thought I would envy a Muggle. Ever. I need to meet people out of school. Only I can't do that because I have to ace every subject and learn all sorts of new things with Father over summer, not to mention every spare waking hour I have I devote to Quidditch practice. Why me?  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
As soon as Draco stepped into the dingy pub of the Leaky Cauldron, his eyes strained to make out the equally dingy figures stalking around in the bad light. His eyes adjusted and immediately they set on the trio he was not in the mood to see.  
  
For the past year, Draco had found no pleasure in walking up to Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, firing up a rally of some of the worst put downs both parties will ever know, and walking away just as discontented with the Dream Team as before if not more. He took much more pleasure from beating them at any of their own games: Quidditch, wealth, and grades.  
  
Draco steered his way around them discreetly and exited the pub to Diagon Alley. It felt almost weird for him to walk around these streets wearing Muggle garments. In this light, the robes of wizards looked of a little overkill. Draco's hand went to his pocket for the crumpled supplies list. Seven things left for the seventh year; back to work.  
  
Let the transformation begin! 


	2. Head Boy Hits Bottom

How Many Times.?  
  
Chapter Two~ Head Boy Hits Bottom  
  
After putting 'Aspire to Nothing' in his trunk for transportation to Hogwarts, Draco didn't touch or think about the book for weeks. Stress had beaten a large hole through the boy's heart and was leaving him moodier than ever. Expectations from the professors had quadrupled since second semester last year. Exams were still a good two months away, but with the extra bar from the teachers, his peers, and the gap between those and his own, the ladder was becoming impossible to climb.  
  
The first moment Draco realized he might die if he kept up the ten hours of work he did (after classes) was three days before Halloween. The text on the paper shifted wildly back and forth in front of his eyes. He'd restarted the fire two times since everyone left the common room. The silver sheen of the marble walls played tricks on him, moving closer and curving around his weak form. The last four pages of the chapter seemed to fall away to his feet and his hand color merged with the pages.  
  
It was a dead feeling, but he was still so awake. The feeling was almost his momentary consciousness throughout each and every day. As captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, he was appointing their top beater to oversee practices while he went to the library. Nobody dared to point out that he should take a break from the labor that tortured him. His meals were constantly cut short when he thought of another point he could make in this paper or an interesting detail that would add to that fact.  
  
Draco was brilliant; there was no doubt about that. He just seemed brilliantly stupid for doing all of it to himself. So in that moment of realization, Draco didn't think a damn thing. Everything went pitch black, and it was miraculously comforting. He fell limply to the cold, stone floor. Sleep would have his soul for now.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco was found the next morning by Professor Snape checking through the dorms. The professor levitated the slumbering boy to the hospital wing where he was given a proper draught of an energy restraint, sleeping potion, and left him to sleep off the death.  
  
Madame Pomfrey determined it would require four doses with wake- breaks in between to recover the youth. For something to do, Snape left a book he had found in the Head's trunk and some parchment beside Draco's bed. Each time he woke up he felt immensely better, but the feeling never lasted long. Draco tried to read the first few pages of the book that had appeared at his side, 'Aspire to Nothing', but he could never concentrate or completely comprehend the words.  
  
Sleep was a wonderful thing, he realized. A rare and precious gift in his schedule, yet he remembered it as a necessity in his former years. The past obviously didn't count anymore. He had responsibilities now, to everyone. Madame Pomfrey tried to convince him other wise yet push him at the same time.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, you cannot keep this technique. There are more important things. Even Miss Granger settles for average to keep her happiness above such!" she explained.  
  
Draco snorted. "And I'm supposed to follow the Head Girl's example!"  
  
"Well, she is the Head Girl for a reason."  
  
"I'm Head Boy for a reason!" Draco yelled. "I'm the one that works the hardest, and I'll be the one who gets the farthest in life, and I'll be the one with the best life because of it!" He immediately lay down on the bed again and tried to force himself to sleep. He wouldn't dare acknowledge the truth in the nurse's words.  
  
Madame Pomfrey sighed, hoping that someday, Malfoy would know what he had said was exactly what would be true except for the exact opposite; he would be of high position with zero happiness.  
  
Draco fell back asleep in a matter of minutes. He usually didn't have dreams, and the few that he did have, he never remembered them. Most of the time, his dreams would portray some of the most beautiful scenes in the world, sometimes he would see his perfect life after graduation, and sometimes the dreams were black with a woman's soothing song ringing through every bit of his mind.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
The melody was so loud in his ears; it seemed to fill the whole castle wing. Hauntingly magnificent, the waltz of worldly adoration floated wispfully in the depths of his brain.  
  
Draco never wanted it to end. His heart would fill with a thick, rich love for the peace and float to the clouds of serenity. He only wished it could go on.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco woke slowly, but not unwillingly. Every breath he inhaled was refreshing, as if his lungs were filled with heaven. The moment his eyelids lifted, sunlight, bold and brilliant, pierced his dream-blank head.  
  
Draco caste his gaze down towards the other end of the room. At the corner of his bed, twiddling her thumbs and looking around nervously, was none other than the Head Girl. She looked as if she'd done something wrong.  
  
"Why on earth are you here?" Draco mumbled. Hermione jumped in her chair, letting out a small squeal in shock.  
  
"Hey, Malfoy," she finally said, walking over to the side of the bed, "how are you doing, besides scaring the bloody hell out of people?"  
  
Draco squinted in question. "Fine. I'm fine."  
  
"Good." Hermione just looked at him, not knowing what else to say.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence. Draco was used to being uncomfortable and just stared straight up at Hermione's almost twitching face.  
  
"So," Draco began, "why are you here again?"  
  
"I just," she began in reply, but she suddenly became frustrated with herself. She pulled the chair she had been sitting in under her again. "Look, Malfoy. I know how you got yourself in here and." Hermione paused. She looked up at Draco leaning on his elbows. "And if you need any help, ever, I can-"  
  
"I don't need help, Hermione." Draco sat straight up and stared at the other wall. Calling her by her first name would make her listen and know he was serious. He kept staring for at least a minute. Now that he tried, he couldn't remember his dream, or did he have a dream?  
  
"I suppose I have a lot of work to catch up on."  
  
Hermione stood up.  
  
"And I guess I've put us behind on all the planning."  
  
"Actually, now that you mention it, I was wondering if the idea of a carnival would blow over well with you."  
  
Draco turned to Hermione.  
  
"Of course, you wouldn't have to do a thing; I'll plan everything for it."  
  
"What's a carnival?"  
  
For a moment Hermione was stunned. Then she remembered who she was speaking with; Draco knew nothing about Muggle activities.  
  
"A carnival is," Hermione started, "a sort of festival Muggles have with games and food and."  
  
Draco face froze. He didn't look very excited, much less convinced of the idea.  
  
"They're real fun." Hermione tried, "I promise."  
  
"Sounds like it." Draco smirked.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
I wish I could go have some fun right now instead of make-up homework and badgering of 'worried students'. Merlin, I even wish I could be a carefree, little Muggle with a girlfriend and free-time.  
  
It must be afternoon; the sun's pretty low. Some fresh air will do me some good.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
As Draco got up from the hospital bed, Hermione walked to the foot of it to intercept him.  
  
"Where are you going?" Now that she stood right in front of the tall blond, she wasn't so confident she could make him rest. "You should rest some more and-"  
  
"I'm going on a walk, Granger. You mind?"  
  
Hermione looked down while Draco sauntered over to the door.  
  
"But."  
  
"If you want to come."  
  
Silence. Draco wondered if he'd really just said that. Hermione wondered the same. Draco turned back around to face her.  
  
He could only say one thing. "Well?"  
  
Hermione all of the sudden looked uncomfortable, like she had done something wrong again.  
  
"Sure," she said weakly, "I guess it couldn't hurt." She looked up, and then added, "Too much."  
  
Draco smirked and walked out the door.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
This could go a couple of ways. There could be a really awkward, irritating silence OR she could blab on and on about school and planning events OR I could end up ravaging the poor girl under the sunset. I don't really care for any of the choices.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Draco could hear Hermione jogging behind to catch up with him. For the duration of the walk through the halls of Hogwarts, they listened to their footsteps' echo off the stone.  
  
Finally, they were outside. The wind was getting colder with the coming of dusk and winter. Hermione folded her arms across her chest and wished she had her cloak, but Draco knew the chill was no worse than that in his own home.  
  
The silence followed, but it was not in the least awkward. The two watched the sunset as if the other was not there. They watched as deep blue gained ground slowly, fighting off the last defense of day. Yellow vanished first, then orange, pink, and as the last band of purple was about to fade into the distant horizon, Draco felt as though he should interrupt the quite.  
  
"So tell me more about this carnival."  
  
Hermione seemed eager to explain what she could. "Well, like I said before, there are games, which we could adapt to be more wizard like, there are these booths which have various things at them, and there are food stands, of course. I don't really know what else to say; you'd have to see it, I guess."  
  
"Fair enough. When will we have it?" Draco asked.  
  
"I guess we could do it before Christmas, or around Valentine's Day, or in the spring," answered Hermione, stopping to face Draco.  
  
"Why Valentine's Day?"  
  
"Because couples always have fun at the Muggle ones!" Hermione started to chew at her nails. It was good he was asking questions; it helped her straighten out her own logic on the subject.  
  
"What do the people who aren't part of a couple do?" Draco wanted to know what he would have to do in this situation.  
  
"They can hang out with their friends or something."  
  
"Hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle? I don't think so," Draco mumbled under his breath. Hermione heard him.  
  
"Fine; we'll have it some other time then! Before Christmas, perhaps?"  
  
Draco sighed. "No good; Hogsmeade trip."  
  
"Right." Hermione groaned in frustration.  
  
"Spring then?" Draco encouraged.  
  
"It'll have to be."  
  
More silence. Hermione put her hands by her sides, nibbling her lower lip.  
  
"So," she tried to begin.  
  
"How much work did I miss?" Draco interrupted.  
  
"Is that all you ever think about?" Hermione snapped.  
  
"You do more than I do, Granger, so why do you care?"  
  
"I don't, but at the same time I do."  
  
Draco looked at her. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I'll help you if you want."  
  
"Bloody hell, woman," Draco spat, "I don't need your help. I already told you that. Now just tell me how much dammed work I have to make up!"  
  
"None."  
  
Draco stopped. "What?"  
  
"The teachers, all of them, said you wouldn't have to make up any of the missed assignments." Draco was turning to walk back to the castle.  
  
"They know you can do the work," Hermione continued after him, "They know we can only do so much."  
  
Draco kept walking, staring straight ahead. He didn't want sympathy or a break because of weakness, and he definitely didn't want less because he couldn't do more. How pathetic would the world think him?  
  
He turned and stopped, breathing in to keep himself calm. "Hermione just let me finish my last year."  
  
She stopped.  
  
"Please."  
  
"What's doing this to you, Mal.?" She still couldn't bring herself to call him by his name. She took a step forward. "I mean Draco."  
  
He turned back around. This walking was causing more stress than it was getting rid of. He wanted out now. He started off towards the castle, storming through the dying grass.  
  
"You can't be making yourself do it, Draco."  
  
He kept walking.  
  
"What is it? Who is it? Is it your father, Draco? Is that who it is?" Hermione had to yell so he could hear her. She heard a faint 'goodnight' as Draco disappeared into the darkness.  
  
"Urgh!" she grunted in frustration, hurling a feather she'd been carrying to the ground. It caught in the air and lightly wafted to the grass. She kicked at the dirt.  
  
"Damn him." 


	3. Halloween at Hogwarts

**How Many Times…?**

Chapter Three Halloween at Hogwarts

Convenient. That was the only way Draco could convince himself that the holiday was for the better. He made sure to remove his things quickly from the hospital wing and discreetly dodged any sort of contact with any 'concerned' students. Not like any of them really cared that much, but Draco didn't want sympathy for his failure to complete his studies. Throwing his school bag to the floor beside his trunk with all his might, his breath escaped him in a whirl of fury.

He wanted to not care about his grades; he really did, but he knew he would lose too much from the action. If he didn't beat the Mudblood, his father would disown him, and in turn, he would disown himself. He had to face it; he was utterly doomed. But that couldn't be the only way out of this mess. There just_ had_ to be some other route.

Draco flung his form face first into the soft, Slytherin-sheeted bed. He rubbed his face furiously against the fabric, wishing it would tear the skin from his skull. Realizing this would do him no good, Draco ripped his head up and breathed in heavily. Life seemed so pointless right now.

Draco suddenly became aware of the incredible stomach pains that plagued him. He could hear the bubbly rumble and decided he did need to eat something. Walking with heavy feet down the stairs to the common room, Draco heard Crabbe's unmistakable laugh. He didn't like that laugh; it was never heard after anything genuinely funny was said, but he was hoping the belly it came from would be filled with hidden snacks from a stash.

Goyle saw Draco emerge from the stairwell first. He stood up as if he would bow, then crossed his arms across his chest. Crabbe rose as well, an awkward, dumb expression plastered on his face.

"Hey, guys." Draco said rubbing the back of his neck as if he had a crick. He didn't.

"And where the bloody hell have you been?" Goyle's face bulged. He always would be that much bigger than Malfoy.

"Anyone have any food?" Draco commented, completely avoiding Gregory's question. The other two boys' faces lit as if they were reminded of a hidden treasure they had forgotten. Crabbe nodded quickly and bolted up the staircase to their dorm room, Goyle at his heels. Draco followed calmly, hoping all of it wasn't candy; he didn't want to be sick or hyper at the current moment.

When Draco finally sauntered over the threshold of the boys' room, Crabbe and Goyle had already unloaded what looked to be five pounds of various munchies to the floor from various _odd _places. They had obviously made a resent trip to the kitchens. Draco's eyes fell to a neatly tied napkin packed with small, chicken drumsticks, and he immediately seated himself on the rug.

Vincent and Gregory plopped themselves across from Draco and groped aimlessly at the candies, almost starting to fight. Within a minute, each had a vivid rim of chocolate around their mouth, while Draco slowly savored his chicken and daintily wiped his mouth with the napkin. He felt better; he felt ready for sleep again, and maybe this time he would wake up as if he knew his time zone. He yawned.

Goyle looked up, his hand still shoved in the jelly bean box. "Go on to bed, man."

Sometimes Goyle was insightful in the simplest way; this was one of those times.

"Enjoy your belly-aches," Draco muttered on his way out.

As soon as Draco reached the end of his bed, he collapsed. He was already wearing light clothes from having to sleep in the hospital bed, so within seconds Draco was curled comfortably under the heavy sheets and blanket. The light from the fire dimmed slightly at his command and Draco soon fell asleep.

Draco woke slowly but not very, for he was not allowed to with a furious pounding at the door. He always locked his door for privacy; this person obviously had no respect for it. Draco threw himself angrily out of bed and flung the door wide open.

"What!" he screeched. It was Goyle; of all people Draco wanted to see this very morning, he was not even close to the top one hundred. Goyle stared dumbly, one foot back, hands up in defense. Draco was still pissed. "What is so bloody important?"

"Breakfast," Gregory replied softly, as if it were the most common sense around. "You coming?"

Draco slammed the door in his face. Pathetic, really, how needy those two goons were, couldn't even go to breakfast without their guide. Seven years is long enough to know how to get to the dinning hall, after going there over three times a day (in Crabbe and Goyle's case).

What was he going to do? He was tired enough to fall asleep standing right where he was, one word out of the dumb duo and he'd set them both on fire, and the amount of work he was going to have to do before he was able to get some sleep would surely place him in an early coma. Surprisingly, he found himself wanting to talk to Granger about this…

"Bloody hell, going insane you are!" he said out loud to himself.

Goyle banged on the door again. "What was that, Draco? You coming or what?"

"I'm coming, you mindless gits, just let me change my freaking clothes!" Draco threw on a sweater and some black pants, then changed his mind about the sweater and threw on a button down shirt, finishing the last few clasps as he walked out the door.

Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind him as usual. Students were already eating their morning meal. Breakfast was always the quietest meal, and Draco was thankful for that fact this morning.

Hermione was sitting in between Harry and Ron when she looked up to see Draco turning to walk to the Slytherin table. He hadn't looked for her and continued towards the table, choosing a seat on a bench where his back faced her.

Harry elbowed Hermione on the forearm. "You know we need you to do better than that if we're ever going to turn him. We need more than just you screaming 'is it your father' to him." The harshness in Harry's voice was uncalled-for, Hermione thought, but the message and disappointment was not.

"That was your one chance, Herm! How are you going to get another chance to talk to him without being suspicious? Face it, Harry, no amount of studying books is going to help her with this." Ron poked repeatedly at his porridge, sprinkling some salt and stirring it in. Seamus asked for the butter, sitting a few students down on the other side of the table. Ron passed it to him while Hermione counted to ten to collect her thoughts.

"Well, that's were I think you'll find that I really am quite the genius!" Hermione opened her school back and pulled out a book unlike any wizarding text. On the binding were the words '_Aspire to Nothing.'_


End file.
